Her nails were very long and painted scarlet.
‘Don’t you nod at me, miss,’ she snapped. ‘I want a proper answer, using the voice that the good God gave you. You can’t fool me with your silly histrionics. I said, have you got that? ’
The fist in Josie’s throat tightened further. She tried to swallow, but it wouldn’t go down. Aunt Ivy pinched her wrist, the scarlet nails dug into her flesh, and her throat felt even tighter. Her eyes smarted with the pain, and she knew that she had to answer to make the pain go away. She swallowed again, almost choking on the fist, and a sound like a grunt was expelled from her mouth. ‘Yes,’ she croaked.
Aunt Ivy released her wrist and her face twisted in an unpleasant smile. ‘I thought as much. It was all put on. Your mam was the same, always putting on an act, full of airs and graces, making eyes at people.’ She placed her arms on the table and leaned forward, so that her face was only inches from Josie’s own. Her breath smelled worse than Maude’s. ‘Now, miss, we’ve got matters to discuss. I’ve taken you in, but I’m not having the neighbours knowing me sister gave birth to a bastard, so we’ve got to make up a story. I want you to listen very carefully. From now on, you’re only five, not six. Understand?’
Josie opened her mouth to argue, but stopped when her aunt reached for her wrist.
‘You’re only five, otherwise they’ll guess why our Mabel left home. A year later, she was old enough to get married, and that makes you legitimate. Her husband, your dad, was killed in the Battle of Britain.’
‘But Mam didn’t have a husband, and I didn’t have a dad,’ Josie protested.
Aunt Ivy impatiently pursed her red lips. ‘I know that, and you know that, but we want the neighbours knowing something different. I told you, this is a story. We’re making it up. Your dad was a rear gunner in the RAF. His name was – John Smith! Mabel met him when she was working as a nanny. I’ll say I didn’t tell anyonebecause I disapproved, thought she was too young to get married. You stayed living over the water, anywhere will do – Ellesmere Port. Repeat that, miss – Ellesmere Port.’
‘Ellesmere Port,’ Josie said reluctantly. Mam had taught her never to tell lies.
‘And what was your dad?’
‘A rear gunner in the RAF. He died in the Battle of Britain.’
‘And his name?’ Her aunt raised her thick, black brows.
‘John Smith.’ It was all very difficult to take in. ‘Does it mean I’m not Josie Flynn any more?’
‘It most certainly does, miss. From now on, you’re Josephine Smith, and you’re only five.’ Aunt Ivy leaned back in the chair, looking pleased. ‘Good. You’ve got a good memory, like your mam. She could tell me things I’d said years ago, repeat them word for word. It means you should do well at school, like she did. You’ll be starting Monday, it’s all arranged. Sat’day, we’ll go to Penny Lane and get you some clothes.’
She looked through the window at the yard and said thoughtfully, ‘It’s got Flynn on your ration book, so I’ll have to register you with shops that don’t know me, somewhere in town. I’ll go in me dinner hour. It’ll be a nuisance, but the shops round here know everyone’s business.’ She got to her feet.
‘Well, miss, I’m going back to work now. I had to take two hours off because of you, and I’ve got a very responsible job. I’m secretary to the head of Claims at the Mersey Insurance Company. Mr Roberts can’t cope if I’m not there.’ She smirked. ‘I’m never home before six, so someone’s coming round at four to make your tea, but you can learn to do it yourself in future so that we don’t have to bother people. My Vince is on afternoons– it’ll be half ten at least by the time he puts in an appearance.’ She looked keenly at the child crouched over the table. ‘Did you know you’ve got an Uncle Vincent?’
‘Mam talked about him sometimes.’
‘I
‘Don’t you nod at me, miss,’ she snapped. ‘I want a proper answer, using the voice that the good God gave you. You can’t fool me with your silly histrionics. I said, have you got that? ’
The fist in Josie’s throat tightened further. She tried to swallow, but it wouldn’t go down. Aunt Ivy pinched her wrist, the scarlet nails dug into her flesh, and her throat felt even tighter. Her eyes smarted with the pain, and she knew that she had to answer to make the pain go away. She swallowed again, almost choking on the fist, and a sound like a grunt was expelled from her mouth. ‘Yes,’ she croaked.
Aunt Ivy released her wrist and her face twisted in an unpleasant smile. ‘I thought as much. It was all put on. Your mam was the same, always putting on an act, full of airs and graces, making eyes at people.’ She placed her arms on the table and leaned forward, so that her face was only inches from Josie’s own. Her breath smelled worse than Maude’s. ‘Now, miss, we’ve got matters to discuss. I’ve taken you in, but I’m not having the neighbours knowing me sister gave birth to a bastard, so we’ve got to make up a story. I want you to listen very carefully. From now on, you’re only five, not six. Understand?’
Josie opened her mouth to argue, but stopped when her aunt reached for her wrist.
‘You’re only five, otherwise they’ll guess why our Mabel left home. A year later, she was old enough to get married, and that makes you legitimate. Her husband, your dad, was killed in the Battle of Britain.’
‘But Mam didn’t have a husband, and I didn’t have a dad,’ Josie protested.
Aunt Ivy impatiently pursed her red lips. ‘I know that, and you know that, but we want the neighbours knowing something different. I told you, this is a story. We’re making it up. Your dad was a rear gunner in the RAF. His name was – John Smith! Mabel met him when she was working as a nanny. I’ll say I didn’t tell anyonebecause I disapproved, thought she was too young to get married. You stayed living over the water, anywhere will do – Ellesmere Port. Repeat that, miss – Ellesmere Port.’
‘Ellesmere Port,’ Josie said reluctantly. Mam had taught her never to tell lies.
‘And what was your dad?’
‘A rear gunner in the RAF. He died in the Battle of Britain.’
‘And his name?’ Her aunt raised her thick, black brows.
‘John Smith.’ It was all very difficult to take in. ‘Does it mean I’m not Josie Flynn any more?’
‘It most certainly does, miss. From now on, you’re Josephine Smith, and you’re only five.’ Aunt Ivy leaned back in the chair, looking pleased. ‘Good. You’ve got a good memory, like your mam. She could tell me things I’d said years ago, repeat them word for word. It means you should do well at school, like she did. You’ll be starting Monday, it’s all arranged. Sat’day, we’ll go to Penny Lane and get you some clothes.’
She looked through the window at the yard and said thoughtfully, ‘It’s got Flynn on your ration book, so I’ll have to register you with shops that don’t know me, somewhere in town. I’ll go in me dinner hour. It’ll be a nuisance, but the shops round here know everyone’s business.’ She got to her feet.
‘Well, miss, I’m going back to work now. I had to take two hours off because of you, and I’ve got a very responsible job. I’m secretary to the head of Claims at the Mersey Insurance Company. Mr Roberts can’t cope if I’m not there.’ She smirked. ‘I’m never home before six, so someone’s coming round at four to make your tea, but you can learn to do it yourself in future so that we don’t have to bother people. My Vince is on afternoons– it’ll be half ten at least by the time he puts in an appearance.’ She looked keenly at the child crouched over the table. ‘Did you know you’ve got an Uncle Vincent?’
‘Mam talked about him sometimes.’
‘I
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